


Midas Touch

by theAlchemistofTime



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, As in the author doesn't know what she's doing kind of bad, Attempt at Humor, Bad Case, Bad Puns, Creepy, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAlchemistofTime/pseuds/theAlchemistofTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They brushed all paper work, pages and pages of slanted hand writing, journals, knick knacks, books, postal cards and letters. So many letters addressed to no one. Some old, some new.  They ran through it all never letting others touch such precious things but it didn’t seat well, with them it didn’t-- </p><p>It hurt.</p><p>God above it hurt so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King and The Tower

**Author's Note:**

> So! I was a bit distracted while I was working and I had this sudden ideia and well - this was born. I warn you tho - proceed with caution. I tried to make thing believable but I bet something won't be. I tried to maintain the characters but I think they're still a bit ooc. Also this is my very first fanfic in english and it's not beta'd. I'm very much Portuguese and I write in my mother language but other than that - no. So please, I ask you to forgive any mistakes and point them out so I can correct them :)
> 
> *bows and flees from the scene*
> 
> Disclamer: I don't own the character nor the show. Unfortunately.

 

> ooo - “ _He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words_.” - Elbert Hubbard

 

oo:57 - January, 4th

It felt wrong.

So wrong. Yet they knew they couldn’t stop; they knew that it had to be done - but it didn’t mean that they would have to like it. While going through the motion a few words escaped, a few observations were made. They brushed paper work, pages and pages of slanted hand writing, journals, knick knacks, books, postal cards and letters. So many letters addressed to no one. Some old, some new. They ran through it all never letting others touch such precious things but it didn’t seat well, with them it didn’t--

It _hurt_.

God above it hurt so much. It hurt so much. Once again they failed. Once again they didn’t see it coming. Lulled by the false sense of security of smiles and beautiful words.  Something akin to desperation clawed inside the team as they searched for answers as to why- Maybe because he was so different - was it because they wanted something they couldn’t have? They knew it wasn’t the first yes - would it be the last? They would find him- _no_. They had to find him. But the question would always remain. Would they be on time? Would it be his last? Would it finally break him? Would it finally push him away forever? How many times before his eyes lost all that wonderment, all that innocence, all that life?

Aaron Hotchner looked at the broken cup on the floor and tilted his head to the side. The small kitchen had just a few appliances, just the ones that were most needed; it was typical of the boy, practical and efficient because the intake of food wasn’t all that important. Just a spare glance. The stoic man traced with his eyes the path from the there to the living room and covered it with his own feet. In the brown and sturdy coffee table sat - in the middle of the mounds of paper - a small chess set. There was a game going on; a few pieces lay discarded at the side but... His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes moved to the couch and the floor.

The King and the Tower were missing.

Jennifer Jereau lifted herself from the crouching position she was in and took in the apartment. It was already marked by its owner; it already had that feeling of lived in. Even if there were a couple of boxes at the entrance, the space was already home. The built in bookcases filled with what seemed to be first editions with none or whatsoever order, the larger living room and the comfortable couch. The ever green walls that they tried to give some life. There were so many signs of him there that it made her ache more. She knew - because she had faith, she believe they would bring him back - that he would move again. Once more. She wondered if he never got tired.

David Rossi considered that even the beautiful black vertical piano that sat silently in the cornered bookcase, was a witness. The silence seemed to reverberate through its strings and down to the wood. A few music sheets were lying scattered in ground and bench - the kid had been trying to learn some new pieces; the older man bended to grab a few and put them back in their place. When he looked at the top of the instrument there was a book - which he couldn’t understand - but it wasn’t exactly that that had his attention. What caught his attention was the small pice of chess in the top of it.

A King that sat atop of the book.

Derek Morgan was angry of course. It simmered just below the quiet surface of his emotions. It roiled like a thunderstorm behind his eyes. The man walked to the desk near the window and lifted his fingers to touch a frame that sat at the center of the writing space. He recalls a conversation - one of the firsts he ever had with the kid. Once he had asked Spencer Reid why he head to little photographs at his desk work and the boy had smiled at him. He remembers the smile - just this shy of painful. Of course he would recall it. The way the big hazel eyes unfocused for instants and came back to him once again.

“ _Because I remember everything._ ”

The words were said in a whisper, like an after thought. Morgan still hears them echoing in his head - now more clearly because he his pushing it. Eidetic memory - Reid had explained so many years later after that conversation - was something that could come has a burden and has relief. To remember the good and the bad. So the older man took another look at the frame. It was not like Reid didn’t have photos - he had. But very few. Just the important ones. And this was, apparently, something fond to him. It was in his desk after all but at the same time--

Out of place. So of course he knew then - that precise minute - that their Boy Genius was talking to them. He turned to the team with a gleamer of hope pushing through the thunderstorm of anger. He turned to rest of the people in the room and looked up from the image of an old man and a very very very young Spencer Reid.

“Guys, I think I’ve found something...”


	2. The Ending of the Pilgrim’s Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighed as his mind rambled alone and stepped straighter; rearranging his already arranged coat and brushing the inexistent wrinkles of it. He was all covered up, even with all the clothes he wore he seemed to be always cold now. He doesn’t talk a lot anymore, or at least like he used to, but his mind was just as active as it was - taking tangents and building theories like it had a life of her own. And right now he knew he was stalling. He wanted to just stride in there and greet everyone but he found out he couldn’t. 
> 
> For the life of him he couldn’t just get in there and pretend that nothing changed.

 

 

 

> oo1 - “ _A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it._ ” - George Moore

10:16 - November, 28th

The elevator doors opened with the same usual and boring ‘ _ding_ ’. As the man entered the steel box and held the door when someone asked for it, he remarked that it was the same woman that used to distribute the post. He smiled at her as she thanked and rode it with him, pushing the metal cart full of boxes. They waited there and he gathered himself playing with the leather strap of the old and very well worn messenger bag until the doors opened again. 

Hazel eyes took the glass doors that lead to the bullpen; half of his face hidden behind a purple scarf, he wondered if anyone would recognize him. Reaching one hand to a few lose curls, he adjusted them behind the ear; he thought that maybe he should have tied them as he used to now a days. After all his hair had grown a lot - _passing a bit of his shoulders really_ -, since last time he was here. Perhaps he should wear a band like he used to? Or just let it loose? He can’t really be bothered really; the thoughts of his hair or appearance were generally the last thing on his mind. But he could bet that JJ‘ or Penelope would give him hell for it. He just couldn’t be bothered by it; the only thing he wanted was to not look like a junkie or some kind of homeless - so he only shaved and gave a dismissive glance to his curls. It wouldn’t do for a doctor and agent look like a bum. But now, he thought absently, he should just have it cut to end any trouble. 

For his piece of mind and sanity - _mind it_. 

He sighed as his mind rambled alone. He stepped straighter, rearranging his already arranged coat and brushing the inexistent wrinkles of it. He was all covered up, even with all the clothes he wore he seemed to be always cold now. He doesn’t talk a lot anymore, or at least like he used to, but his mind was just as active as it was - taking tangents and building theories like it had a life of her own. And right now he knew he was stalling. He wanted to just stride in there and greet everyone but he found out he couldn’t. 

For the life of him he couldn’t just get in there and pretend that nothing changed. 

Dr. Spencer Reid blinked a few times and bit his lips, chewing nervously; his hand griped the leather strap until his knuckles were white. The nervousness was giving him a nausea and - despite knowing he had no reason to feel this way - he was distressed. Quite a bit mind him - even his hands were sweaty and his heart was jumping like it wanted to come out of his chest. It felt... it felt like- 

_ It felt like the first day of school all over again.  _

He let a breathless chuckle past his abused lips. After a few more moments of freaking out for no reason, he gave a shake of head, squared his shoulders and started forward - he was just standing in the middle of the hallway. That wouldn’t do; people wanted to pass and he was interfering with the traffic. He just didn’t comprehend where this feelings came from. This were his friends after all. There was nothing he should be nervous about, they knew him, he knew them. 

End of story. 

But as soon as the glassed doors closed behind him he had no chance. No chance at all. He knew it because Penelope Garcia just turned the corner in his direction; her eyes became round like full moons behind her glasses and the expressive face was flooded with surprise then disbelief and then pure and unaltered joy. 

And Reid found himself with an armful of Garcia. 

He flinched because of the impromptu invasion of personal space. But he uncoiled from himself and felt calm as she hugged him. Circling her arms around him tightly, trowing the case files she had in hand onto the floor. Reid found himself smiling and instead of becoming tense, he relaxed a little more into the blond woman; smelling her sweet and flowery perfume, remembering all the times she just came and took the hugs she and he needed. It was Garcia after all and there was no one like her. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” she half said and half sobbed into him “Oh my sweet baby Genius! My 187!” she held him fast with arms pining him “You’re here! You’re really here! You came back!”; the she took a step back and looked him over like she never saw him before. Her eyebrows furrowed lightly and she opened her mouth- 

“Hotch already knows” his voice was muffled by the purple scarf he took his hand to her elbow squeezing gently “I’ve missed you” he told her simply with a hidden smile stretching his lips. The blond just released a sob, the brown orbs glistened dangerously again and her lips quivered like a baby. Once again the genius had Penelope attached to him like glue while asking him a thousand questions at the same time. And he laughed, just laughed; he missed this. Missed this people, his friends, his family. Reid shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder putting some distance between the bubbly tech and him. 

“You’re so thin!” she exclaimed while putting her hands in his cheeks until his smile was strained, between the two appendages “You’re so going to dinner with us tonight-” she narrowed her eyes and cut whatever words he thought of saying “I don’t understand the concept of ‘no’, if you remember well” she patted him once more and smiled at his disgruntled look. Then took a step back and with his help caught the files on the floor ”Oh!! And you get to meet Joe!” 

“Who’s Joe?” he lifted his eyebrows, displeased to meet another person today, “It seems I have no say in this...?” he half asked, half said. How could Reid forget how touchy Garcia could be? “What if I have another-” he didn’t even finished what he was saying because the trickster glint in Penelope’s eyes was enough for him. “Alright, alright - I surrender!” he said as lifted his arms “Did you know that - statistically speaking of course - dinners are the most social way to get people into-” he was cut with a desperate laugh but a genuine smile. 

He really, _really_ , thought he had fewer bouts of rambling. But it seemed that he might be wrong. Maybe it was just because he was alone? 

“Good. Joe’s a cat. And thanks” she added waving the files and giving him a wink. She was about to add something but he was interrupted by a new presence. He had forgotten that they were at the entrance of the bullpen right by the doors - it was expected for him to run into people. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid!” a baritone voice the genius knew well made him smile as he looked behind him and saw David Rossi entering the bull pen “Good to see somethings don’t change” the elder man put the corners of his lips up and puled Reid to one armed hug “It’s also very good to see you again kiddo” he said more contentedly and with a voice that held a hint of familiar affection - uncle Rossi. The simple and warm words sunk into the younger man making him smile wider. He pulled the scarf a bit down and nodded to the man. 

“Rossi-” he cut himself at the sharp glance he received “Dave” Reid amended with a small laugh “It is good to see you too. I’ve read your new book-” he started quite enthusiastic “- thank you for that first edition by the way -” he added the sincere thanks while his hands were up and about moving carelessly “You know my _little_ collection-” he was cut of by the laugh of the elder profiler and the bubbly laugh of the tech. 

“Little it isn’t kiddo...” he was warmed by the thanks even if he had a written letter full of thanks and how much appreciated it was the book, “How are you feeling?” Rossi asked lifting his arm but letting his hand on the young mans shoulder. He watched has he blinked and opened his mouth, “Not the half assed answer _Einstein_ , the truth please” he cut him, making the boy - no, the man - look at him with those deer like eyes. 

He had grown. 

He was steadier and more disciplined, even if there was always that everlasting nervousness and agitation - the always present dislike of being touched by strangers. But that was normal due to his own problems - and Reid, like the lot of them had all his imperfections. Still he had grown into a man; a calm and strong presence that needed no physical violence to protect himself. Words could cut just as well and deep as swords, and to Spencer Reid, mind and words were now a very well honed and sharpened blade. 

It made him smile. 

The elder also noted his appearance. His was thinner - more like sharp angles from the missing meals; but he looked healthy enough, with his pale skin and his unkept long curls. He was still as tall as he remembered, long and elegant limbs with a inherent clumsiness; lips still stretched in that shy boyish smile. The line of his back once would be tense at his touch, now it gave in into its familiarity and comfort. The hazel eyes were still wide, innocent and young, full of life, just like he remembered them. And also wonder and surprise that he knew so well; full of a knowledge that David Rossi will never possess - knowledge made by books, life and personal experiences. He realized that it was like a heavy weight was lift from his shoulders and now he could stand proud and tall. Instead of hunched and on his own shadow - Spencer seemed to have found some freedom in his mind. 

“I’m-- I feel great” Reid smiled to the man and nodded to the still present blond “I do really, I’m not overselling it!” he twisted his hands around the leather strap of the messenger bag “I feel great now I’m home for good” he added switching from foot to foot. He stopped twitching when Garcia gave him a fond smile and Rossi a reassuring pat. 

“I’m glad to know kid, glad to know” he removed himself from the genius personal space and tilted his head in invitation to join the other desks of the bureau. Garcia also started to move again and Reid and Rossi went to talk to the others in the bullpen. 

“Oh and Baby Genius?” Garcia called as she went to exit the bullpen “You’re so going to cut that hair of yours” she wrinkled her nose “Or maybe not. I might just give him a touch or two-” she paused and gave him a wicked smile “You do look like sex on legs like that” she prompted in suggestive voice walking away from his rather loud squawk and Rossi’s laughter. 

‘ _Somethings don’t chance really_ ’, the genius thought with a blush all over his face and an embarrassed smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Derek Morgan watched as suddenly the blond woman he was talking to got up and put her hands on her mouth giving a shrill yell of surprise. JJ’ wasn’t the only one because his dark haired Princess lifted herself from the desk she was resting and opened her mouth in a silent surprise and a half smile pulling at the corner of her red lips. He blinked and turned at the direction that both women went to and found himself looking at someone he wasn’t exactly expecting to see. 

Reid - no - Dr. Spencer Reid was walking into the bullpen at that moment. With David Rossi at his side and now had an armful of JJ’ and all the smiles of Prentiss. He was looking at the dark haired woman with eyes that spoke of surprise and happiness but also confusion. Morgan had forgotten that Emily had come to the bureau because to substitute Spencer. They never told him and at the time he didn’t want to listen, the man thought bitterly. After so many tries from Hotch she had given in and came, specially after knowing that the genius was gone - she felt guilty, of what Morgan never knew. But the team eventually came together to loose another new member, Kate had came and gone - just like Blake. 

But he came back. 

He remembered quite clearly that day. Ir was something that Morgan knew he didn’t need to have any special kind of memory to do it. He remembered the broken boy, the tears, the screams reaped out of that throat-- He didn’t want to remember that part really, but he recalled the later emptiness that came. The words the young doctor spoke were clear and even in his state of mind, Reid had promised he would come back. He was not leaving but he needed to gather himself; but he did it alone like always. And didn’t that hurt the other agent. Not accepting his help, his best friend’s help, it had cut deep into him. 

_ “I am not going to abandon you. I would never. I just- Right now I can’t- I-I hurt-”  _

But now he looked at the once Pretty Boy, that should now be a Pretty Man. His hair fell into his back, he was all sharp angles and long limbs, ready to fall just waiting for someone to catch him. He seemed taller - but Derek knew it wasn’t true - he seemed more content. More at ease. He moved to the group already with a smile on his lips. 

As Spencer found himself in a middle of ‘ _welcome’s_ ’ and ‘ _how I missed you's_ ’ from the two girls and now a very un-stoic like Hotchner smiling at him, he found the face of his best friend. And something in him uncoiled and spread itself languidly through him. Derek Morgan walked slowly to him and he could see that there was something so different in the man, he was clearly unsatisfied with Reid but there was also joy in those dark orbs. JJ’ let go of him when the older agent put a hand on her shoulder and she smiled at him. Her face was full of tear tracks but her lips showed a smile, big and joyful. She was speaking of how Henry missed him and that he was going to harass the genius to pass a weekend with him. Derek just smiled at her and then turned to him. 

Just like everyone else had done, he was again enveloped into a gentle but fierce hug. Like Garcia, Morgan knew no meaning of personal space and Spencer found himself wrapped in the human heater. He laughed and returned the gesture, thinking that he hadn’t smiled or laughed or touched this much since he went away. It was good. It was good to be in his friends arms. 

But in his minds eye, Derek Morgan was older than he remember. _Was he always this big?_ Well he wasn’t taller than him - never was - but he thought he was less broad, less imposing. Reid’s mind was trying to reconcile this man with the memories he had of the agent and best friend. He looked a bit like Hotch and that made the genius think what could have happened while he was gone from here. Of course he kept talking to his best friend - _he cut contact with no on_ e - he didn’t leave them. He didn’t abandoned them. Spencer needed time to assert himself and to center; the loss of his mother had hurt more than he ever expected and he needed the time. Plus all the other ordeal he was put to again came crash onto him and he just couldn’t stand it. But he had promised to return. He took a year of sabbatical and a few months to regroup and recompose. 

When Morgan took a step back from him he opened his mouth but before he could ask his friend if everything was okay he was cut of thought by his boss. 

“I hope you’re ready then” Hotch lifted a manila folder and pressed his lips in a mock smile “We have a case” with that he moved to the conference room letting the other to stare at him with half smiles and some calls about ‘ _how unfair it is_ ’. Reid just shook his head and smiled long and satisfied. It took him a journey back and again to find that all he need was right here. He was never letting it go again. 

“I guess I’ll have to meet Joe in another night then” he said simply and immediately heard all the voices at the same time as they asked about who was Joe and that he was a cat and that they had to get a celebration on going and that he was so screwed because he was going to be dragged to the pub when this case was over, there were promised movie nights and threaded dinner parties hosted by their own Italian cook. 

Things might have changed in him - he knows they did. But now he also knew that it was okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the ooc'ness might begin in this chapter? I hope it's not too bad and also I made several changes to the team. You've seen Emily's name in there right? Well I brought her back, because I love her and hate her and I find that she's a character I quite like. 
> 
> Soooo there. 
> 
> Another thing - be warned that this is probably a slow burn okay? Aaand I might write a bit to much? I don't know. Also time-line? - a time what? what is a time-line? I think I'm doing a tag for it. I guess it will be a little confusing i'm assuming several things here. I hope you understand, if you don't just ask and if you see an ugly mistake on that part - please just tell me. I'm not a very organised person. 
> 
> Disclamer: I don't own the character nor the show. Unfortunately.


	3. Imperatrix Mundi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should have known that the kid was going to get himself into trouble. Right on the first case he went since he came back. And the stupid thing? It wasn’t an UnSub. It wasn’t a damn crossfire; it wasn’t a mad derange man or victim; it wasn’t a-- 
> 
> It was a fucking door.
> 
> A dammed fucking door.

 

> oo2 - “ _When we are tired we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago_.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

21:45 - November, 28th

Derek Morgan had that constipated look on his face.

The kind that you get when you don’t know if you should laugh or just start screaming obscenities at everyone around you. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to the ceiling of the police station; ‘ _this was going to be one of those nights_ ’, he thought looking at the EMT fixing Reid’s broken nose ‘ _I should have seen it coming, really_ ’.

He should have known that the kid was going to get himself into trouble. Right on the first case he went since he came back. And the stupid thing? It wasn’t an UnSub. It wasn’t a damn crossfire; it wasn’t a mad derange man or victim; it wasn’t a--

It was a _fucking_ door.

A dammed fucking door. It passed a day. Just a day since he joined the team again. And he went strait into a door. Morgan wanted answers as to why did that had to happen in his watch, because really, it wasn’t as funny as one would think it was - not with Derek’s personal experience at seeing Reid and blood in the same space. His guts twisted violently and he shut his eyes to open them just as fast, trying to stay in the room, in the moment so he would drown in memories.

Although it was funny to see how the younger agent was trying to fuse himself into the chair trying to avoid the EMT’s questioning hands. For one he didn’t like the strangers tough and in second place that should be hurting like a bitch. He sighed and moved from his position of leaning into the conference room wall and went near the kid.

“Well... _I-_ ” the younger man stressed the word with a hiss “-for one, didn’t exactly missed this”, he tried to crawl into the chair he was sitting in. The guy with the cotton balls in his hand looked at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly not enjoying having to follow Reid’s movements in the chair. The younger man knew that logically he should stay still and be done with it. He just couldn’t stop himself from backing away from the hands that reach into his sore nose - he knew it was going to hurt. Very, very, very much - thank you. Even if the setting was already done it still hurt shoving those cotton balls into his nose.

He almost screamed when it finally happened.

“Neither did I” the other man replied and nodded as the guy exited the room “That didn’t mean I wasn’t expecting something like this” he smirked at the petulant look he got for that. He laugh and watched as hazel eyes started dropping with exhaustion; Reid got up and subtly tried to make and effort to wake his body moving it to stand in front of the board that had his geographical profiled already organized. “How do you even go against the door while it was just in front of you truly amazes me” he teased the kid.

“I _already_ told you-” Spencer said rolling his eyes childishly “He opened the door and I didn’t expected it” he turned to the older man looking at him with narrowed eyes “It was the forth ring, how was I supposed to know he was at home!” he shook his head and winced at the pain. The young doctor just wanted some _ipobrufen_. He wanted to stave the pain as much as he could and for that JJ’ and Prentiss had to come.

Derek ha a smile on his lips having moved himself to the table with all the paper work, he sat there and looked at his best friend. “Do you think there is any organization in the dump sites?” he asked when the kid turned again and sat the table going through the oldest files.

He shrugged his shoulders dislodging another set of curls that were un-neatly tied with a red band - curtesy of Penelope Garcia. The thin shoulders were hunched and his left arm was laid out on the table showing a barely visible strip of skin that Derek knew it would be marred by a scar. He watched as it twitched without any acknowledgment from the younger man. Spencer was different alright. He was--

Suddenly a police officer came into the room breaking his train of thought. the man let a stack of case files drop into the table with a loud smack that made the genius jump. The loud and unexpected sound made him startled; he retrieved his arm to his side and looked at the board avoiding eye contact with any of them. The man just lifted and eyebrow and smirked getting away from the room quickly as he caught the dark look Morgan was giving him.

He hated this kind of situation. But it was unavoidable and the team did tried to make it a bit more easy on the youngest member. They learned early enough that Reid wasn’t to be let alone in stations like these. Where officers tended to be bullies just because they could. The man curled his hand into a fist and his knuckles became prominent; he wanted to hit something but displaying violence wasn’t any good now. They had worse and besides, he wanted Reid ok.

“Man I can’t think anymore” he complained trying to ease the tension that appeared to fill the room as the officer disappeared through the door “I might have a blackhole instead of a stomach, _seriously man_ ” he complained knowing the exact effect of his words. And like clockwork it came; it never failed to amaze Derek see that tension uncoil from the lithe body, the way his face would lit up and suddenly all years were gone and behind remained a very young, and very curious boy.

“Did you know that...” he started and eyes lit up to him and a very small smile threatening to come were joined to the movements his hands created.

He was hearing the kid. He truly was. But above everything else he missed him and wanted that time back, he wanted to share the good and the bad. He knew he wouldn’t have that, he knew that he had to move forward and try to give the past a rest. But it was difficult to forget sometimes. He should center in present and take the best of it; this job teached him a lot, including living the now.

You never knew when it would be last.

 

 

* * *

 

“So now you have Philosophy and Anthropology, what’s next?” Emily asked while fishing a new piece of chicken from her box “I mean, do they pay you based on your degrees?” she asked with a smile on her lips. Good humored and slightly unbelieving.

“Of course not!” the doctor answered with such intensity that they all laughed at the insulted tone of his voice “I’m payed just like the rest of you - ask Hotch” he said moving the contents of his container of food, from one side to the other barely eating anything “It would be unfair to be like that-” he frowned and opened his mouth to what probably would be another tangent but he was quickly cut.

“And that guy you talked about?” Emily prodded again making JJ’ smile and look expectantly to Reid, only to have him with a confused face and raised eyebrows “The guy that helped you with the thesis? The one that was into art?” she tried to situate the early conversation they had knowing he would recall it perfectly.

It was just the four of them as Hotch and Rossi were still discussing with Detective Williamson the rounds that the local officers needed to do tonight - curtesy of Spencer that had found a likely perimeter for the hunting grounds of the unSub. Now unfortunately they had to wait. The profile was given and they needed him to make a mistake.

“Whoah, _whoah_!!” Derek stopped the girl and looked at him with unbelieving eyes “How does she know that?” he asked in mock hurt a hand in his chest and the most unconvincing tear filled eyes “She knew before me-- _wait a minute_!” he looked at JJ’ and narrowed his eyes “They knew? _Both_!?” he plowed forward. He looked at Morgan with wide dear like eyes and a blushed covered his face. Making him clumsy and off balance.

“You know how persuasive they can be Morgan and I didn’t even told them the whole story!” he heard both of the girls saying something about being cheated and but he just couldn’t be bothered because his focus was on the other agent. And before he knew what was happening his best friend took action.

“Just because of that I’m taking _this_ \--” he reached into one of the two containers of jello that were at his front.

“Hey, hey! Give it back!” Reid exclaimed and tried to get his jello back - it was the only thing he eat nowadays. “You know how they are Morgan- give it back!”

“What no sharing?” he asked as plunged a spoon menacingly into the red desert and smirked.

“But it’s my favorite!” he pouted trying to make himself look younger and childlike “At least change it for the green...” he said pushing the small recipient in front of his friend and “Besides I’m not really going to finish this so jello will be the only thing I eat and if you-”

“Ok, ok Pretty Boy” Morgan smiled when Reid looked at him with a smile that spoke of contemned and happiness at the used nickname “Just have your jello and eat. Mother knows you have to put something to go with those bones...” he said giving back the desert, smiling to JJ’ that also had her lips stretched at the corners knowingly.

“His name is Alexander Hummel and--” he looked at his four friends in the room “And I’m not not going to repeat myself so you will all listen to the story at Garcia’s dinner” he said with finality eating the traded jello with gusto. But a small smile displayed in his lips. Spencer missed stupid things like this, he really did.

 

 

* * *

 

Later that night in the quietude of the hotel room, Derek Morgan, dreamed of passing years. His conscience filled him with a throng of blurry images, sequences of movements, of shapes and sounds that soon turned into nightmarish tales filled with a horrifying truth. He had sat in the bed looking at the cellphone that displayed, in white shadowy letters: 05:21am. Morgan sagged against the headboard and sighed. As much as he wanted to avoid thinking that last time he was with the younger man, he remember those events, his mind refused him piece so they came.

Memories came unbidden.

Didn’t stop, didn’t let him breath through the emotion that were thick and cloying, spreading into his being like a slow disease. He remembers clearly when Reid’s call clicked shut into a dead line and the way they clamored into the warehouse trying to find him. He remembers the way his heart tried to beat out of his chest; the nausea that caused him. He remembers the music filtering - an opera he now knew - trough the space like a ghoulish soundtrack for the horror behind the metal doors. He remembers the sickening smells of rotten blood and mold.

The truth was that it wasn’t worse than the whole Hankel debacle. But at the same time it was so much more horrifying.

Derek was the first into the room with JJ’ pushing the door open into the what would be the center piece of so many nightmares. The music reached steadier into them and he just shot. He shot the unSub. He didn’t even ask the an to drop the weapon because the hammer was already coming onto the direction of the younger genius head. Reid was pale covered in blood and those hazel eyes were riveted on his face - staring soullessly into him, like he could see nothing but everything at the same time. Even has the hammer took a turn and smashed into the laid out arm breaking the fragile wrist, the boy didn’t move. Didn’t made a sound.

He was kneeling on the floor legs bent into the bloody mess around him; the hand that ended broken was laid out and chained into a metal table that was supposed to be the place where he would be dismembered. But worst wasn’t the pain Morgan knew. The worst was the little girl he was clutching into his other side; her hands curved like claws into his shirt and her head bent into his neck, her body laying half in him, half on the floor. None of them understood but when he came closer like the rest of them team, they saw. They saw the lack of breathing, they smelt the decomposition, the rigor mortis making her stay in that position and her eyes like his looking into nothing.

After that they tried to move him but he wouldn’t let them touch him. He had adamantly refused to let them take the body of the girl from him - they had to convince him it was over. It had been Hotch that took him out of his stupor. Not JJ’ or him. It was Araon that barked an order that made the younger agent look at him, really look at him. Eyes filled with horror, fear, hurt, anger but also hope. The boy started to sob and he hadn’t look so small to him, so fragile.

The man, now laying on the bed sighed and closed his eyes, trying to dispel the wetness that came with the memories. The phantom emotions and feelings. The emptiness, the fear of loosing, the misplaced guilt. Everything. And knowing that the kid almost lost it? It was more terrifying that he ever thought it would be. The belief that Spencer Reid was to be gone from their life's like that. It hurt. It hurt like-- there were no words for that. He couldn't and he wouldn't loose him not now, not never. 

He took a deep breath and shook his head. 

One day he and Hotch went into his apartment to find it in shambles. Books strewn everywhere, papers, knick-knacks all over the floor in his small space. They immediately reacted like the worst had happened, calling to Reid to find him at dark a corner. Knees up and head bent into them, words coming to quickly to be understood - almost like a prayer. The he stopped - probably sensing the presence and just uttered: “ _make them stop. make them go away_.” Derek’s heart lurched and his body went rigid with tension thinking that finally the kid had broken. Finally it was too much to him. But as Araon talked with the voice he reserved to very scared victims; Spencer just shook his head lifting his eyes to them.

_“The memories. The memories make me forget.”_

It was the first time Derek Morgan felt like cursing the young genius capable head. He would forever remember those events with precise and clear images, sounds, smells and feeling. Like a movie passing behind his eyelids. In the end to prove that the kid had the worst kind of luck his mother died a few months after - in top of the trauma, he just lost another precious person to him. It was unfair.

_“I am not going to abandon you. I would never. I just- Right now I can’t- I-I hurt-”_

He knew the kid needed a break. He could walk in circles around the BAU psychologists probably knowing more than them but he couldn’t fool him or the others. So they watched him struggle and crumble into tiny pieces to just pick himself again and return. He knew the kid was damaged, knew that even if he looked stronger, he had triggers. The music _Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi_ was a song that no one dared to play. Spencer liked it but now couldn't stand it. Derek himself couldn't hear it. Some days he fantasized, he even tried to believe that Spencer would never return to them, to the team. Not because he didn’t want him to come - trust him he loved Spencer Reid like he loved his own sisters, he was family, his best friend. But he didn't want Spencer to hurt anymore and Morgan didn't want to remember.

_That night?_

That night managed to hurt not only the young genius but also everyone else. And he didn't need any special kind of memory to know that he would forever retain it with him.

The whole thing was _engraved_ into his soul.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter. I don't like it - I think it's a bit confusing. But, well. I tried to explain what made Spencer take off from the team. I think I had to many ideas for this chapter so it might be a little all over the place? I don't know if I was successful but well here it his. I hope you like it.
> 
> I might just rewrite it I don't know yet - but since I'm trying to update regularly... well. I'm trying - and probably failing miserably - to give some context into the characters, the true commotion per se will only be set in the 4 or 5 chapters. I'm sorry :( I did said I write a lot and I'm kind of slow. But I'll try to make your time worth! Just stick with me please :)
> 
> Disclamer: I don't own the character nor the show. Unfortunately.


	4. Peer Through The Smog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guilt ate at him with voracious hunger.

> oo3 - “ _Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them._ ” - Fydor Dostoyevsky

o8:43 - December, 4th

' _Maybe I should buy a warmer coat_ ' he thought as half of his face disappeared into the purple scarf; trying to conceal the damaged area while at the same time bring a bit more of heat to his cheeks. He pressed his hands deeper into the pockets and ran up the stair of the subway avoid any possible contact with the people around him.

Reid checked the clock in his wrist and took a turn to the left. He was way to early might as well just go and place a visit to the coffee shop. At least he would have a hot beverage while he was waiting for the coffee pot to start. With his long legs and quick steps it didn’t took him that much time to reach his destination. He gave a sigh of relief when entered the shop, a shiver rounded him but he made nothing of it as he knew his body was adjusting to the room temperature.

Heading to the area where the still small line was he took his hands from the pockets and pulled the scarf down to place his order. Reid, didn’t even registered the look that the boy that was in the cashier gave him. He was waiting in the line, so focused at thinking of what he was going to order and getting the few coins out of his messenger bag that he missed the words that were said to him. He just blinked when the cup with ‘ _Doc :)_ ’ was put in front at him and he looked up to the guy from the counter smiling at him. He blinked several times before understanding what was going on and his eyebrows came up in a surprised fashion when the other laughed at- ' _probably his face'_.

“Better take care of yourself if you want to continue to save the world Doc” the young man - _Peter the tag read_ \- just closed the register. “You used to come here all the time before sooo I guess you’re back from your vacation? Don’t worry man! Glad to have a _good_ _costumer_ back” he smirked making Reid flush in confusion “It’s on the house” and with that he winked.

He winked. At him.

 _Spencer Reid_.

“I-I... T-thank you” the young agent flushed even more because of the slight stammered word. Confused Reid grabbed his beverage quickly and clumsily and got out of the shop as fast as he could. His face was already aching with small throbs of pain, probably because of wall the eyebrow gymnastics the guy put him into. ‘ _That had to be weird_ ’ he thought to himself as he picked his place to get into the bureau dismissing the glances at him - not really seeing - as he was so focused on understanding the behavior of the clerk.

Today would be full of surprises, certainly.

He hurried along the way to the building and soon found himself sitting in the same old desk. Spencer let out a gust of breath from his lips and settled in, starting to get his things in place since it was kind of difficult to do it on his first day because of the case. And they had a day off so, he actually had to do it now. His desk was clean he could think it would be untouched but he knew better - the couldn’t be with a missing field agent for long. It warmed that it had been Prentiss to come to the team. It did.

“Good morning my dove!” he was startled from his thoughts by Garcia that came over him with a smile on her lips “Already getting your daily caffein dose? Are you ready for tonights dinner?” she asked while clutching a pack of case folders onto her chest. She looked like she could use a little bit of more sleep “ _Aw_! Poor baby!” she added pouting slightly discontent when she took a real look at his face. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Reid chuckled lightly and shook his head giving Garcia a fond smile.

“I’m just fine” he said pulling his hand onto his lap “Happy to be doing something other than getting my house cleaned up” the boy said with a shrug.

“I bet you must be happy get some exercise to that big brain of yours” she narrowed her eyes and then she was suddenly in his personal space looking right at the cup he had brought to his lips “Doc? And with a smiley?” she asked with her eyebrows raised and a naughty smile on her plump red lips “Is there something we should know Dr. Spencer Reid?” she made his sound like something inappropriate and Reid flushed a painfully red color.

“I-I think...” he suddenly said making the bubbly tech stop whatever she was going to say “I think the cashier from the coffee shop was flirting with me...?” he said it but it sounded like a question. He was confused as to why someone would be do that to him. Because well it was him, and he was bruised all over the place and he didn’t even knew the guy-- it was so weird!

“My boy wonder is getting hit on!” Penelope laughed heartily at his guilty looks and confused expression but soon gave a sympathetic wince when the young doctor grimaced and reach his had to one of his eye rubbing it gently. ‘ _That has to be painful_ ’ she thought when he gave a small shy smile that didn’t push to much skin. She could make an entire palette of color in those bruises. Yellows, purples, greens and blues. She wished she could do something other than look at her little genius and be sad about it. She would get some research when she got to her lair. Penelope would find something she always did.

“I’m so going to get something for that face, boy wonder” she said and he just gave a shrug his hazel eyes dancing with amusement.

“You don’t need to, really. Just a few more days and it will pass” he countered putting his coffee on the table “Besides the doctors gave me a gel that contain heparinoid that’s supposed to help with the circulation after bruising” he said very quickly pulling a string on his weathered cardigan “It is not the first time I get bruises Garcia--” he said and tilted his head making a few of his curls land on his shoulder making him look younger and childlike.

So very young.

“Oh!” she said suddenly cutting of whatever comment he was going to make “We need to get those curls under control” she said waving her finger in the wair.

Spencer Reid groaned pitifully and Penelope Garcia just cackled evilly.

* * *

Araon Hotchner looked at the door when he heard the soft rasp; he called for whoever it was to enter and looked up to see Garcia enter his office with a few case files and the usual happy smile on her face. She handed him the files and adjusted her glasses on her face. 

“This are the few that I selected from the stack that came while you were out. I think that most of them don’t represent a real urgency” she put her hand on her hip and gave a nod to her boss “You and Jack are coming to the dinner tonight right?” she asked and Hotch took the eyes from the few files looking at her with eyebrows raised. 

She didn’t even looked fazed. Was he losing his touch? 

“Weren’t we invited?” he asked looking at her sharply and put the folders in front of him. She just nodded and he went back to the files at hand “Then I’ll see you and everyone else at seven” he finished and heard Penelope’s footsteps taking her out of the room. 

“Thank you sir!” she said as she was leaving and he just shook his head giving into the small smile playing at his lips. 

Hotch placed his hand on top of the papers and looked at them without really seeing, without real acknowledgment. He was getting old, too old. And he wasn’t talking about his body - true it was getting old. His hair was getting a bit more gray, his skin was getting subtle wrinkles that JJ’ and Prentiss teased him about. But right now he was acknowledging his being, as a human - he was getting old. Sometimes he felt it acutely as it ached deep in soul and bones. He loved his job, he did it because he choose so but sometimes it made him feel ancient. Burned and tired, full of scars and burdened knowledge that nobody should have to endure. 

Now knowing the reason of reasons for the small dinner with his team, his friends, his family - it made him happy, but it also made him sad. Of course he was happy. It was good to see everybody together again, to see everyone healthy and smiling even tho there would be so much that could make them frown and cry. 

He turned his head looking at the bullpen. 

His eyes zeroed in Spencer’s desk. In the last days the team gravitated around the doctor as if he was the sun and they the planets that were pulled into his core. During the case the boy was never alone at anytime, there was always someone there. Always someone making a question, making a sound or just giving the comfort of a presence. And now he saw the same thing, someone overing around him; laughs and smiles - _happiness_. 

Part of him didn’t really knew what to do. He blinked as everybody took a leave to their own desks leaving the good doctor alone smiling softly at himself as Morgan ruffled his curls, a look of satisfaction playing in his face. Realizing something suddenly Araon felt again as if he was truly powerless. 

Spencer Reid was alone. 

His hands curled on themselves and he blinked a few times to dispel the watery feeling that came with the conclusion. Not that the doctor didn’t have them as family, as friends, as support - _but he was what was left of his own blood family_. No longer he had a mother to write to, he had no father since he was a child and he had no siblings or aunts that he knew of. When Reid got home, he would go to his books, to his words, to his music - to this loneliness. At least he had Jack and wasn’t that worth the whole world? He knew the doctor wasn’t inclined to get any relationship anytime soon, what with all the loss and trauma. After Maeve... the boy just didn’t want to feel that way anymore. Afraid of getting hurt and protecting himself from the despair of losing another person, of losing another part of himself. 

A shame it was, he would definitely give a good father. 

But the truth was-- he would never forget. Whoever, whatever, was or happened... Reid would retain every little aspect and would alway be there - to teach him. To remember him that life is... all of this. He shook his head and sat himself straiter in the chair. He couldn’t save everyone, Hotchner knew that - it was something he learned right at the beginning of his career. But it was hard - harder - when it came to his family, those whom he perceived as his to protect. And Spencer... Spencer would pull all his father strings. It screamed at him to keep him in a bubble - after Jason, after his second parental figure leaving the kid had stopped looking for one. But Araon just took the role and plowed through until the genius had accepted him as such. It felt good and at the same time the responsibility made it harder after the Richardson’s case. 

The guilt ate at him with voracious hunger. 

He sighed and shook his head taking the case files in front of him. He gave them a cursory look, taking a mental note to keep an eye on some and give others away. As he opened the last one he frowned in surprise. It was like Garcia said - there was no urgency - but it was a local one. Charlottesville, just in their backyard. But it was just two missing persons report - nothing that could constitute anything really dramatic. The girl and the boy went missing at the same time. 

Maybe it was an error from Penelope. He shrugged and put the files aside giving his full attention at the report he needed to finish. 

* * *

Rossi’s dinners were the best. 

The whole team got together, they would laugh and drink and relax. He heard all about their new cases and adventures, the way they seemed to just continuing their lives despite everything. He heard that Sergio gained a new friend and that Garcia had finally accepted for Kevin and her moving together, JJ’ and Will were considering a baby brother or sister for Henry and surprising - o maybe not so - how Morgan’s relationship with Savannah ended because both of their work. 

His godson seemed to have filled his quota of Uncle Spencer time since now, he and Jack, were playing with each other. But at first it was difficult for them to separate the boy - well not at first, _first_. The little man had been angry and upset not understanding why one of his favorite persons could do that to him - being away for so much time. But soon he gave up on being angry, after coaxed by his mother and father he exploded in tears and didn’t dare to leave Spencer’s side - even at the table, where he sat at his lap hugging his neck and sniffling at his curls. 

On the larger couch, Rossi was sitting with Prentiss, Garcia, JJ’ and even Morgan seemed to be content in hearing his stories from the time he was away, having his but parked in the arm of the couch. Telling them how he found a professor that advised him to take Anthropology; his classes motivating and the coordination simple and easy making it easy to float in the knowledge without any guilty feeling of ditching his work. He also explained to them who Hummel was and they managed to note effect and impression he left on the younger member of the team. 

“I mean-” he said waving his arms around “ _Hummel_ \-- we actually just ran into each other first while talking with Professor Leanings but then he started to come to his lesson everyday and-and we just talked” he remembered vividly the first time the other man had smiled at him “It was very strange but a good kind of strange because we have the same age and the same kind of interesest and the conversations came so easily...” he said smiling a bit “In the end we still write to each other and talk.” 

“Well that very nice, to find another peer it’s always a good thing” Emily said a smile on her voice and a knowing look on her eyes. The other apparent genius had take a parcel of Spencer's attention and it wasn’t small. It was good to see the doctor happy and interested in people - because it was him. And that wonderment and curiosity, that will to live was something so him that Emily wanted to preserve. Wanted to cherish, as friend, as family. She opened her mouth to make a remark on how cute they seemed to be and to ask when were they going to see the man that stole their genius when she was cut of. 

Morgan was interrupting by clearing his throat to get the genius attention. The brunet just furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her friend with a confused expression. 

“So... where did you end up anyway man?” he asked taking a drink and wanting to move the subject away from the other guy that seemed to have warmed up his way into the genius heart “I mean, you now have two knew BA’s right? So where did you get them? I bet offers weren’t your problem...” he chuckled along with Emily and Penelope but soon the mirth died and a slight bit of worry took over as watched his Pretty Boy. 

Spencer was as crimson as an apple as the blood rushed to his face. There was a guilty look on his face and his hazel were begging for comprehension. His whole figure seemed to tense like a cord from a violin, ready to spring if touched. 

“I wasn’t that faraway...” he said pressing his finger together in a sign of distress “I... I-I was in the Jefferson’s finishing the two BA’s” he said his voice small but not wavering. Even when he heard Garcia and JJ’s surprised gasps - he was so close to them, so close but he still didn’t came and see them. He knew he needed to heal and unfortunately the best place for him was not with them. He didn’t dare to lift his eyes and see the anger that would be swimming in Morgan’s eyes. 

“Don’t be mad!” he pressed feeling the guilt choking him a bit “I-I really needed the time away from here, away from things that would give a constant reminder but-”, he sat up. No longer he could stay still; words were rushing from his mot like pouring water. His shoulders sagged and his hands unglued themselves from his front and started a series of agitated movements that would come into compass with his rushed voice “--but I also knew I couldn’t be that fair away from you. You were, are and always will be my anchor - my safe persons” tears had started to stung at his eyes and he wanted to press his fingers to try and prevent them from escaping. He was tired of crying, “I couldn’t really stay away because I felt it wasn’t safe an-and I found myself here again. Because I needed that measure of security an-and love that you represent to me...” he felt the tears and his face flushed with color because the feelings that were assaulting him were so many. The guilty, the fear of being reject, the need, the assumption that they loved him-- 

But it was okay, he now knew. 

As Garcia’s arms came around him and JJ’s hands on his and Morgan’s hand on his curls, Rossi and Hotch smiles of understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, not rejection of any kind. 

Just pure and calm acceptance.

 

* * *

 

They were in a basement. 

They knew that much, they could see each other but they couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. Shackles prevented their escape and kept them hung into the wall. There was a table and a chair both at the center, and both made of metal. Clear steel. A lonely lamp illuminating the small room making an unnerving buzz from the electric wire. The place was damp and it smelled of bleach and something anti-septic. 

The room seemed small but that was what they could perceive. The light only granted a small patch of vision and then it was darkness. No sound besides that horrid and creepy buzz of the light. Nothing more. 

And then-- _then a sound_. 

Eyes locked on the way the sound was made. Eyes wide with horror, pupils blown by the adrenaline given by the fear that seeped from every pore of their skin. With their mouth tapped they could only whimper and beg silently to get out of there alive but... in reality they knew. They knew there was no escape and no one was going to find them. 

They heard a lock being turned and turned and _turned_. 

Like a mockery of a clockwork. Echoing around the room. 

Like an omen. A very bad one. The kind that was felt when you knew there was no escape, there was no way from getting out of this situation alive. 

The door cringed and lamented of her hinges, the sound prolonged and high pitched because of the slow movements. Then three footsteps and a sound of something heavy hitting the floor - the sound muffled by what it seemed fabric. The person started to walk again, coming from the shadows and with her the sound of something being dragged through the concrete floor.

Just outside of the circle provided by the light a voice sounded, not gravely and evil like; not even scary in any other circumstances but just-- 

“So... who will be the _first?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really now okay? So that. I'm doing whatever my mind tells me. I feel like I'm seriously missing something still, hopefully, before people loose interest. I haven't re-read it by the way so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Dammit.


	5. Three May Keep A Secret, If Two Are Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would get one more. 
> 
> Three was a magic number.
> 
> Three was his magic number.
> 
> Three would make things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So according to some I like to write creepy stuff. So there at the end there are creepy stuff? Well I don't really think it's all that creepy but consider yourselves warned. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the confusing writing. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own them or the series.

> oo4 - “ _I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain._ ” - Frank Herbert

23:o9 - _December, 6th_

It finally rained.

After a few days of dark clouds and freezing winds, it finally rained. Fat and cold droplets of water washed down the glass drawing paths to nowhere. The sound echoed in the otherwise silent room, maybe the light scratching of pen and paper could be heard. Sitting at the desk in front of the window, Spencer Reid, wrote. His elegant and long fingers moved quickly and efficiently like always, writing lines and lines of slanted letters. It always pacified him to plunge into his world of words. Logic and reason were always his best weapons and his best defense. And in times such as this writing calmed him and let him unwind from all that was running inside of his head.

An outlet to imagination and feelings he didn’t knew how to express.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Spencer blinked a few times and placed the pen on the paper and rose from his desk. Pulling the coat he was wearing tighter, he went to the door. He wasn’t exactly expecting anyone at that time of the night but as the opened the door his surprise was something he had some difficulty to hide.

Araon Hotchner was standing there looking a bit wet from the rain and his demeanor stoic and closed as always.

“I’m sorry I came so late- I just came to see if you were fine” the man’s brows were furrowed and he looked a bit lost. Spencer knew they shouldn’t profile each other but he really couldn’t stop it. This was a very strange behavior to the man. “I’m sorry I guess I’ve interrupted you--” he lifted a hand and gestured to Reid’s attire and before the older agent could get another word, he cut him.

“ _Hotch_ , come on in” he said opening the door to it’s fullest. He saw the torn look from his boss and ended up smiling “Where’s Jack? I was just about to make some tea, do you want some?” he asked letting the man knowing he was welcome.

“With Henry they had a pajama party...” after a few seconds of debating with himself the other man accepted and entered the house giving a curious glance around. He looked at the half emptied boxes; the books that were halfway to the shelves, in small piles. The papers in the table and the ridiculous amount of cups around the most various places. Hotch ended up following the young genius to the couch where he sat, looking at the windows and vaguely hearing the tangent Reid was giving him.

He wasn’t sure what he was truly doing here. But at some point his unconscious mind was begging for something that he couldn’t quite comprehend. And, even now, he just sat there looking at the rambling young man. Then suddenly he stopped him with just one question.

“ _Why_?”

Araon’s voice sounded hoarse like he handed spoken in hours; thick with emotion and cloying with guilty. Wasn’t that a loaded question. A question that had so many others behind it, that had so many feeling and doubts; so may pain. He realised he needed to do this. To talk to one of them, to tell them even if he didn’t like it or had troubles in expressing himself - he knew he needed it. The truth is what Hotch needed and it was what Reid would try and deliver him.

“I’m... I’m not good at this” Spencer said and after a few moments he got up from the chair he was and knelt on the floor in front of his friend “You mustn’t drown in guilt, because there is nothing for you to be guilty of” he said then and took Hotch’s hands in his holding them as an anchor but also as a reassurance; “We live by our choices. We make our mistakes. And we learn our lessons” he bit his lips and looked up to the sad and old brown eyes, “It was my choice to go alone to Richardson’s house, as it was my decision to get myself separated from JJ’ in Hankel’s and getting locked in Nichols laboratory” he continued and his face was a mask of calm and acceptance.

“ _But_ \--” Hotch tried to say something but the words caught in his mouth as the young genius looked at him with warmth and respect. He felt his eye water but remained silent.

“With...” he took a deep breath squeezing Araon’s hands, “With Tobias I died. For a few minutes I was dead. Really dead” his head drooped, making soft light brown curls hang like a curtain on his face “With Joseph Richardson... I almost died. But above all... I-I had to watch someone die in my place. I had to hold that child while she was being killed, while she was dying... Hotch...” his voice wavered but he wouldn’t fear now because he told this so many times and watched in his mind’s eye that sometimes he thought there was nothing else he could see, hear, or dream.

Hotchner sat still. His hands gripping the other pair with just as much force as Reid was digging his blunt finger nails onto his skin. He swallowed dry and retained the urge to drop onto the floor and embrace the genius. Or just make him stop talking because remembering himself of those events was not easy - but what of Reid? He was always going to remember no matter how many time passed and even if everybody told him they would listen to him, he knew it hurt them. So the kid - man - wouldn’t speak. Wouldn’t say it out loud.

“After getting me out of that house, I thought I had the strength to keep myself from... _falling_ ” Spencer said softly, slow tears slid down his cheekbones making tracks and darkening eyelashes “But... But I was questioning myself, my beliefs. Why it had to be her and not me? She was far more innocent than I ever was. I know it wasn’t - _it isn’t_ \- logic... But I questioned myself if it is worth it-” he gave Hotch a reassuring smile when his brows furrowed with worry, “Now I know that it is worth it. It is _worth it_. To protect. To care. To give. The reality is that there wasn’t anything I could do for her... But at that time I was consumed by that guilt and shame and powerlessness... She wasn’t just in some photo stamped in a white board or a file. I talked to her, I’ve came to understand her and known her... and I lost her” the implied like the other was left unsaid “So when atop of it all I got the news that my mother died? I finally fell. And I new I needed to grieve alone, I needed time to heal myself” he shook his head and lifted his face once more “It wasn’t yours or anyone else fault. You have nothing to be guilty of, it wasn’t because of you on anyone in the team that I left the BAU... It was because I needed to make my choices and strengthen my believes” he smiled then, a twitch of lips that rather sad, “Being here with you all around me wasn’t what I needed. Well... I needed you at some level but... with the memories so fresh, I had to just see things. Other things instead of the violence and death we are handed every day. I had to know I was capable of living even after _that_...” he said finally.

Both Hotch and Reid were silent for a few minutes then the younger man got up and slid his hands from the other. He took a deep breath and turned half way to the window, peering to the night sky. There was something else he should say to him but it was the scariest and the one that had troubled him the most - the one that truly sent him spinning through that desperation.

“Do you remember that night when you and Morgan came to my old apartment?” he asked barely a whisper that Araon strained to hear.

“Everything was upside-down... and you...” he closed his lips on a thin line and his face locked down in remembrance “Yes” he opted to say simply. His stoic features in place and he held himself in silence and waited until the Spencer organized his thoughts. Then he gave a very subtle nod to himself and tore his gaze from the window to the floor.

“For a few day I thought I... had psychotic break” he told finally. his hands twisting in front of him “I could see it everywhere, could hear it every time... and I was really talking to myself - to them - when you came in” he bit his lips and wanted to hide somewhere, “I was scared of what it could mean, what would do to the time, if I made a mistake... I didn’t even pause and pondered if it was really the _schizophrenia_ \- I assumed it was” he took another deep breath and went strait ahead “After attending to my mothers funeral I went to several doctors and each one told me it was normal. I was to be expected all of this, and I’ve read it so many times that I should’ve recognized it... but I didn’t. What with everything else that ails me, that renders me complicated to deal sometimes... I was so afraid” he shook his head and then looked at Hotch. Seeing in the other man’s eyes the pain for him, “It wasn’t your fault Araon. It were just to may things happening to me at the same time and I could process it. I needed time and I took it. I’m just truly sorry I’ve put into so much pain” he finished almost in a whisper.

They stood there for a few moments neither saying anything. Reid used his sleeve to clean his tear-struck face and took a breath; he would never need to tell about the fear of coming back - after he left. He left. He felt so bad for leaving even if he promised to come back - it was just a mess and very complicated.

“Tea?” he asked and Hotch dumbly nodded.

After that, Araon Hotchner, felt somewhat humbled and proud. Not in the sense that Spencer was just some holy saint and he was here for forgiveness. He knew he took the parental figure roll to the young genius, he gave a degree of trust onto him and now he felt it be given back to him. Sharing with someone else, talking or feeling were the kind of things very difficult to the genius. Since they were not from the realm of logic and reason. Watching the thin figure go he stood there feeling... relived. Relieved because the young doctor seemed to be dealing with his problems better, because he was doing a fine job at being whole, because he was back, because... because--

_Because he didn’t blame him._

And didn’t made him feel better. It was like a permission being given and a very, very, very large weight was taken from his shoulders. It wasn’t like all of his guilt was off - that’s how he was, taking responsibilities even where they weren’t needed - but Reid telling him that it wasn’t is fault, knowing that the genius himself was dealing, it helped him also deal with everything.

At first when he entered the house he was afraid. Afraid that he was going to reach the conclusion that, even if he was back and working, maybe Spencer was going to go away from then. But as he saw the genius coming in the living room, his doubts disappeared.

Hotch had never seen Spencer more at ease with himself as he was now. Mind him, he still looked a bit like a child that never really grew into his body; he still seemed to be filled with to many knowledge for just one person and he still dressed as if he were ancient rather than a young beautiful thing.

Except the socks.

And that made Araon give a startled laugh. The damned socks. His eyes took the weird matching pair in the approaching wriggling toes. Still a child at heart, Spencer tilted his head to the side and gave him a curious and confused look but there was a smile on his lips.

“If I could, maybe I would forget” Reid said then as he sat handing his friend a cup of tea. A sent of camomile and jasmine filtered the air, then those words that were said to him a long time ago came; he never let them go as he would never leave again the man who said it, “But I won’t. So I’ll use them. I’ll use them ‘to become a better person’”.

* * *

As they left the precinct of the local P.D. Morgan and Prentiss shared a look of relief. Finally it was over and they were going to get some sleep. Well eventually and hopefully since even Hotch was walking in pure will - or it seemed. Derek Morgan had never seen two local detectives more terrified than Vicco and Jameson. The two of them had received the end of the most infamous glare from the ex-prosecutor after some rather important information had gone strait to hands of the press and thus putting the investigation in danger. But above all it took them more time, since the unSub ended changing tactics. 

It was kind of comic to see two seasoned detectives pissing themselves. And it was also fun seeing Hotch running the place like he owned the damn department - nobody questioned anything. His friend seemed to be with his head back onto it’s place and it was good to know. 

So, no wonder, it was a relieve when they boarded the jet to fly home. Morgan entered and went strait to one of the lounges and put his headphones. He and half of the team wanted to just get some sleep and that seemed to what everybody was preparing themselves to do - not that he blamed them. Even Hotch seemed to take a deep breath as he took a seat so it really wasn’t a surprise. 

On the other couch Prentiss threw him a look and took her eyes to Reid who was clutching at his messenger back and looking sorrowfully at the place she was. She just smirked evilly and stretched herself turning her back to them. Morgan had to laugh at the disgruntled face of the genius when he turned to seat at the table. 

“Hey Pretty Boy, I’m sure we’ll manage both to rest in here” he pointed to he rest of the couch with his head “You curl on yourself all the time taking just half of it anyway” he gave a smile at the tired look, “Come on man” he extended his arm and reached for the messenger bag pulling the genius until he sat and eventually started to arrange himself. “Thank you” he croaked, voice failing from tiredness, stress and cold. “No worries” he answered and looked at the man as he took of his converse and pulled up on the coach. Eventually Derek rested his head on the plush leather and breathed slowly listening to the music in his ears. 

Then something cold touched his leg and he looked down. 

He blinked a few times and then his lips stretched in a half smile. Spencer sighed happily, toes borrowing into his tight seeking warmth. It somewhat felt like there was something so very familiar with this touch; the way it was so normal, like they use to do it every time - and maybe, once upon a time they did. Something intimate in the way his hand fell onto the young doctor’s feet to warm them up and just sat there. He was allowed to do that - from the moment there were feet pushing onto his tights, _that is_. 

Morgan looked at then man that was already contentedly asleep. There was a wistful look on his face as he thought about what he wanted and what he thought he deserved. They were different things, that was what the man knew. He promised himself that he was going to have more quality time with his family - well, as much as he was allowed with his work. But he would. He missed the lazy nights of movies and good conversations, the dinners and getting out for no reason but just celebrate that they were there and alive. 

They would get there again. Morgan knew they would. 

* * *

 

_ Clank, clank, clank.  _

The horrid noise made him flutter his eyelashes, waking him up and making him frown. For a few moments he could n’t remember what was happening or where he was, but as soon as he tried to move his restrained hand, his eyes went wide. His breathing hitched behind the tape and he looked to the side and to the other. He was no longer in the same position he was left. 

_Nor in the same place_.

_Clank, clank, clank._ He was not bound to the table... but he seemed to be supported by the ceiling? Some kind of ropes on his wrists. He looked around as much as he could. But like the other room this one was dimly lit and the he could hear the sound of machinery working and something... _boiling_? He strained to hear what seemed to be something thick bubbling not very far from him. He looked at the ceiling again it was - as far as he could tell - concrete. Did he remained in the basement? How was he getting out of here? He didn’t want _to die!!_

_ Clank, clank, clank.  _

The man on the table started to tremble feeling himself exposed. Not only his body was naked but he was helpless and there was that noise, and the weird smell-- He was so afraid. So very afraid. He could still hear the damned clanck, maybe it was something old being moved? 

He didn’t know. He didn’t care! He wanted out! _Now_! 

_ Clank, clank--  _

The noise suddenly stilled. 

With the repetitive sound gone he could hear the boiling noises better and they were not far from him. For a few moments his hands contorted desperately on the metal and then he was floating. Whimpers and something very hot was on his back and he turned his head and looked at the man as he was lowered into-- whatever it was. 

He was going to-- 

He didn’t even screamed as he was plunged into the metal tub. The other figure in the room, looked for a few minutes and then nodded to himself. A smile was in his lips and he put his hand on the pocket taking a watch from there. The he walked to the door; he moved at ease knowing exactly where to turn and where to go. He drummed his fingers lightly in the his leg. 

He knew exactly what he was doing he thought. He just needed one more, one more and everything would be perfect. He might just get it tonight - or not. Better not rush things. After all, he wanted it to be perfect for him. He wanted it to be monumental. He wanted to play but he first had to make sure everything would go accordingly. And he would get one more. 

He would get one more. 

Three was a magic number. 

Three was _his_ magic number. 

_Three would make things happen_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 
> 
> Chapter oo5 - Ascension


	6. Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A head.
> 
> They found a head.
> 
> Well at least it was what looked like - a head. 
> 
> A head sitting in a chair in front of a headless statue. 
> 
> So there.

 

> oo5 - “ _Everything you do is triggered by an emotion of either desire or fear_.” - Brian Tracy

_2o:13 - December, 18th_

“I am really sorry” Spencer said for the hundred time, his hands were on the table and he was looking at the food as if it had personally offended him “This is something I can’t really miss... and this late, I have to go” he added again even if he had already explained, “This as to be statistically improbable. But it is me and my luck. I mean, there was four percent of chance of me getting a call but... I get out like this so very little I just wish...” he sighed and drummed his fingers, “I mean, _I know_ it’s not logical but I wish this guys just took a vacation and--” the laugh startled him and cut him of the rambling he was going in.

“I’m sure that the serial killers would take a few days of vacations” the other man at the table smiled goofily “You should just try and talk to their secretary so you can arrange it in the agenda” he added as he waved the waiter so they could ask for the bill, “And you don’t have to worry, Spencer, I knew this could happen” he said with a smile that showed rows of perfect white teeth “At least he got to see the whole concert with no interruptions.”

“ _Alexander_ -” he was cut of as the man his front looked pointedly at him and he just looked like a sad puppy with those big hazel eyes looking at the other man.

“You just own me two dinners now” he said before Reid had the chance to continue whatever he was going to say “Besides, I heard from professor Leaning that you were invited to give a lecture in January” he said and took his wallet from the pocket, “You, _my darling Spencer_ , are going to have dinner with me that night. Put that in your agenda, or just keep it in your lovely mind” he said, as he paid the dinner and assuaged the waiter that the food was great as it was the service.

“I could have paid for that” Reid said with a half hearted glare at his friend, which was countered with a dazzling smile from the other man.

“Don’t give me that look” he raised one eyebrow but the tone was playful “I know you could” they both got up “But I did invited you without previous warning” he said and then tilted his head as he mirrored the young genius and dressed his coat “And I wanted to.”

Spencer Reid looked at the man in front of him fighting the blush he knew it was coming to his pale face.

He was one year older and like him, his intelligence had been measured has above the average - not that Reid believed that intelligence could be measured like that. He was an historian and like him had a love for books and old fashioned ways. He was, by the social standards, a beautiful man - not that beauty was what gave Spencer that spark of interest, but it did help. He was tall with sun kissed skin, his hair was an ebony black that was cut short and messy all around. His eyes had a green hue to them.

For a profiler, he felt quite idiotic sometimes.

He knew he was better now, at getting social queues and all of that, but at the same time he felt he really didn’t understand people. Now, as both of them walked out of the restaurant in silence he didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to respond to the other man. He just didn’t knew and he hated not knowing. His eyebrows arched slightly as he thought, his eyes looking to the street now but not really seeing. He felt a bit strange, inside of his chest, like full all around but empty; like this was not exactly what he wanted. Reid admired Alexander, he was starting to feel the same affection for him that he felt to his family - but there was something other, warmer than that. It felt strangely like Maeve but not quite like that. Definitely not like that. But at the same time--

He couldn’t really explain, _not even to himself_.

“Hey, Spencer!” Alexander called and the young doctor turned. The younger man’s face was framed by a few light brown curls, snow flakes fell all over and he looked curiously to his friend. He blinked a few times and then blushed a painful shade of red that spread to his his ears and down his neck. The historian had the cellphone up and was taking photos of him.

“ _Alexander_!!” he squeaked and turned again, glaring at the nothing as he heard the laugh that followed him. The quick steps that were reaching to him gave him the urge to just turn his own pace faster. He hated photos. He really didn’t like to be in them, it felt like he was exposed or something - he didn’t really understand the feeling. Besides what was there to keep an image of? “Don’t do that” he grumbled slightly as his friend smiled unapologetic at him.

“You’re going to waste my name if you keep going like that! I had no photos of you. And I have, of all my friends” he taller man said as he stayed at the genius side “Get inside that big brain of yours that I don’t have your wonderful memory, darling” he told him bumping his shoulder gently with the other man. They weren’t toughing in any way; both conscious of Spencer’s felling towards human touch, “Phillip was sad that he couldn’t come with me but he had a few classes he could not miss” he changed the subject not really expecting any answer.

Spencer just shrugged. Phillip was a nice enough person - he didn’t knew him that well, mind him. Like everyone around him he had a hard time relate to, the awkwardness and the slight discomfort he felt around new people never faded with Phillip, even if thee other guy was quite enthusiastic of Reid. The genius pressed his lips together and put his hand inside the warm pockets of his long jacket. He wasn’t comfortable in the that topic and he wasn’t really comfortable in the clothes he was wearing.

Garcia just had to _insist_.

“Maybe in another day” Alexander smiled still. He was looking at the man one year younger than him. All that brilliance and knowledge and kindness, wrapped in shields, layers and walls that were meant to protect the him and his heart from the world. The historian sometimes wondered what could make someone like this, so intensely wrong about themselves. Because in his minds eye, Spencer Reid, was special in so many ways, but very much blind of himself. And sometimes he wondered.

No more words were said as they fell comfortably silent, walking side by side to the subway entrance, small snow flakes falling around them.

 

* * *

 

They were all waiting in the conference room for everyone to join in. Reid, Hotch and JJ’ were late but were coming. Emily, Morgan, Garcia and Rossi were already peeking at the case files on the table and were not happy about what they saw. Besides it was late and they were tired. There were so many cases they could do in two weeks; it was tiring and with the approaching christmas the team was not that merry.

It seemed like the piles of cases seemed to grow instead of diminish.

Morgan was not a happy camper and neither was JJ’; both of them had already complain about wanting some family time. Morgan wanted to see his mothers and sisters and JJ’ wanted a proper family dinner. He didn’t know about the other but he was defiantly a bit restless about getting a few days. He thought that today he would get some rest but apparently there was some kind of urgency.

He was thankful that Hotch seemed to agree with them and was negotiating with Cruz a week in the christmas and a few days in the new year - but that was something the dark skinned man wanted to see with his own eyes. He would only believe when he turned off the cellphone and got himself stretched in his couch doing nothing more than be lazy.

As if summoned by his thoughts Hotch entered the room sporting heavy bags under his eyes and a tiredness that everybody felt. He turned to file again for a few seconds and closed it as he heard JJ’ and Reid’s voices from the corridor. Morgan looked up from the file and his eyes got stuck in the tall figure that filled the doorway.

Spencer was there his cheeks and nose were slightly flushed from the cold and he had a small smile playing at his lips as he heard JJ’. He was still wearing a long coat, a deep charcoal that accentuated his fair skin. There was a white shirt, with dark vest and jeans, all elegantly put together. And of course with that purple scarf that seemed to never leave the younger man. Curls everywhere and a bit damp from the possible snow. He never looked more--

He cut himself before he could finish that thought. Morgan was just surprised to see Reid like that; the other man rarely looked so put together, so perfectly combined. Generally he used what was most comfortable for him and that was fine, because it was simply something Reid like. But seeing him all dressed up reminded him that the other man did enjoy and had a social life.

The dark skinned profiler shook his head.

_No_.

“Are we all now?” Hotch cut everyone in the room, his presence a tense line. He was clearly stressed or at least enough that even Penelope’s silence and prompt start of the round table were an indicator of his boss’s mood.

“Well my doves this is a weird one. Charlottesville, just our backyard. A few weeks ago two teens disappeared and now a body was found and another went missing. We don’t have much since we were immediately called into action as they are afraid that the missing kids might be related. The local P. D. is hopping that, given the timing of the disappearance of the victims, that the last one might still be alive” Penelope’s voice was fast and efficient as she explained the few details that were given. From the missing reports to the appearance of the first body.

“Well then lets go” said Hotch when the bubbly tech finished her report. There wasn’t exactly that much time for a brainstorm they would have to do it on their way there “We’ll be hitting the ground running.”

* * *

 

A head.

They found a head.

Well at least it was what looked like - _a head_.

A head sitting in a chair in front of a headless statue.

So _there_.

Spencer incline himself forward as he tried to get a better look. It was late, the detectives did not wanted to remove or clean the crime scene before their team arrived, so they had to do with what they had. Which was poor light and a few spoked officers. He was just thankful that they hadn’t more audience than that.

“Well it seemed that our unSub wanted to have some attention. This doesn’t look like he was targeting anything in specific but the amount carefulness put in here points the other way” said Rossi as he circled the area, looking and analyzing what was around of him, “He his giving some kind of meaning to this.”

“Yes” agreed Reid as he got the gloves on his hands “The head his clearly staged for maximum effect” he inclined forward to the chair “But the smell indicates that, either, the body was kept for to much time or was put here a few days ago” he blinked a few times scrunching his nose, “I’m inclined for the later.”

From an outsiders point of view it would look like a sculpture - if it wasn’t the fruity stench of decaying flesh. He shivered a bit - a few memories trickled into the back of his conscious mind but he battled them off -, the smell was potent and that pointed that the it had been there for a few days before it was actually discovered. It was supposed to be a girl, he guessed. The entire head looked like it was submerge into something - as the eyes were covered in the same substance but the hair was cleaned off and the mouth was open. As he took a closer look he pointed the flashlight to the lips and noted a small piece of paper peeking from the corner of her mouth.

Well, like he said, _it looked like a girl_.

“Does anyone have some tweezers?” he asked to the officers and amid the negative answers someone gave him a pair of them and promptly stepped back.

“Did you found something?” Rossi asked as he got near the young genius and gave him a look “He sure was trying to do something to his victim...” he added as he looked at the head, “I think this might be his first. It does look like he was experimenting, no?” he asked as he saw Reid taking a piece of paper from the inside of the mouth.

“Again, I’m inclined to agree... this is bizarre and it looks like he was trying something” he answered the older profiler “And I’m not sure he succeeded in what he wanted. I don’t understand what he is trying to project actually...” he narrowed his eyes when he opened the piece of paper. Tapped letters from an old machine held a sentence he knew instinctually, “' _No empty handed man can lure a bird._ '” he recited to Rossi and turned the paper “Chaucer from the Canterbury Tales... I have no idea...” he looked at the older man.

“My guess this is as much as yours...” the man said as if to respond to the Spencer “Maybe he wanted to lure the victim?” he pondered “Or did he wanted to play?” he asked looking at the bodiless head “The phrase sounds almost like a mockery” he pointed and Reid took his eyes from the man, to the show presented before him.

“Either way, we better get to Hotch” Reid said “There isn’t much in here” then he twisted his lips and frowned “Well, there is information, actually a bit to much but we need to understand what he did to her” he pointed to the skin. He was a bit unnerved about that actually.

The curiosity burned deeply in his mind and churned with heavy disgust as usual, thoughts of possible puzzles and ideas of what had this unSub doing such... work? The mind was always such a tricky thing, one could never know what would really go inside of minds like these. The genius just shook his own head and put himself upright watching the paper intently. he had a feeling that this was going to be one of those cases.

Either they caught the unSub or he would vanish from the map like it never existed.

_'No empty handed man can lure a bird'_ he thought to himself.

_No_ _indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:
> 
> Chapter oo6 - A Vicious Queen


	7. A Vicious Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a door at the end of the corridor. Flickers of gold poured through it slightly into hallway casting disentangled shadows. Shadows that would tell stories of bared walls with no distinct marks and no more living than what’s really necessary. 
> 
> Beyond that metallic door lay a room.
> 
> And that room would tell a very different story from the hallway.

> oo6 - “ _Thinking of something does not make it true. Wanting something does not make it real._ ” - Michelle Hodkin

 

o8:11 - December, 20th

Everything was cold and the light was bright and harsh like.

Considering that it was barely eight in the morning and that the coffee Spencer was previously holding was now waiting in the desk upstairs, there were better places to start the day. But it wasn’t with any surprise that he was the one that ended coming into the morgue to check with the coroner. Reid and Rossi had ended to be the chosen in the mission since they were the ones that went to the crime scene; that and the fact that the young doctor could easily let his curiosity win any squeamish sights the body - or lack of there of - could pose.

That and he was actually curious.

He was a curious person by nature.

“You look like you had a rough night kid” the senior agent supplied while they waited for the coroner to arrive. The young agent blinked one eye at the time making Rossi laugh and shake his had at the sight of his the rumpled friend.

“It was difficult to find sleep last night” Spencer supplied pursuing his lips in distaste; he had a bit of difficult time in shutting his mind down, it seemed to have a will of it’s own and wouldn’t stop working no matter what. “I had some trouble in quelling my head, there were some things that were bugging me...” he concluded while lifting one shoulder, both of his hands were messing fixedly with the leather strap of his worn bag.

“I wouldn’t say it was a unique scenario but it was most definitely a strange one” Rossi nodded eyeing the young man’s hands “And the note? Did you thought in anything that could relate?” he asked and moved near the metal table only to look sharply back at the sound of the door scrapping on the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry for the lateness gentlemen.” the presumed coroner entered the room, “I’m Dr. Jonathan Folman” he said and went to the both of them extending his hand to Rossi, and then to Spencer, only to give a sharp nod at the young mans dismissal. He looked fatigued and wary as he looked at the table that contain one small lump and a sheet covering it; “I’ve been in it all night and today will be another day around our lovely head” he said as he placed a bag in a desk and beckoned the agents near the metal table.

The room smelled of antiseptic and it’s harsh sting made Spencer twist his nose. There was a chill in the room that young agent disapproved whole heartedly; after all he was already cold by himself, the slightly refrigerated room made him shiver a bit more than usual.

“Did you managed to see if it was a male or a female?” asked the young agent as the doctor placed his gloves and offered a pair of them to Rossi, who declined and then to Reid who accepted them quickly “We couldn’t tell at the site but I was positive that it would be a woman... the prominent features of the head indicated to more delicate lines” he had some trouble wording his thoughts because of the images that assaulted his mind. He remembered the smooth and velvety feeling he got when he was touching the skin.

The coroner sighed and looked at them with one eyebrow raised and a shake of his head. Before baring the head to them he crossed his arms in his chest and tore his eyes from them and looked dubiously at the metal table.

“Well you were right...” he started nodding at the lump “It was a young girl and we’re still waiting for the age tests. We’re also going to need the missing person list and call in the family... we can’t quite get a match on this one” he wrinkled his nose and shook his head again and went to grab the white sheet, “The guy who did this? Well you can tell he is a weird one...”

* * *

 

The campus was alight with movement and activity even after the events. The students were moving from one point to another always in small groups, as it should be after the warning given by the local P.D.. They really had to play all the cards right, if the missing students are somewhat involved in the case then there were no doubts. Also there was the fact that the UnSub just decided to tell them he was there. 

There wasn’t nothing more flashing than putting your kill on display. 

“He could only be more flashy if he just held a sign saying, ‘look at my work!’” said Derek as they walked inside of the building and followed the young assistant onto one of the professors that knew at least three of the missing students. 

“That or putting it in one of the room where the classes are held” said Emily at his side “Hotch is now with Rossi at the scene right? They should be able to tell us more after that” she shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the young girl as she left them on the door of Professor Warrington office, “Well here we are” she knocked and the opened the door. 

The man inside looked from the books and papers in front of him and blinked. He had white hair and his face was wrinkled by the time and care, his blue eyes curious but there were no recognition in them. Warrington looked completely harmless, he could fit in a child story and no one would give him twice a look. He sat back and gestured for them to come in. 

“Good morning, are you professor Warrington?” Derek asked and the older man nodded with a small movement rising from the chair to greet them “We are Agents Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss, we’re from the FBI and we are investigating the missing students” he said gesturing at the brunet at his side and then shook the hand of the wrinkled professor. 

“Of course!” finally the man nodded more vehemently and gestured for them to take the chairs which they refused “Well agents what can I do for you?” he asked as he looked at the two expectantly “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help you but I’ll do my best... these were my students and I had high expectation for one of them” he said as his tone became subdued and somewhat sad. 

“Probably more than you know” Emily said as she pulled the photographs of the missing persons and asked for him to identify them. The old professor helped them telling them the schedules he knew they had, a few friends that he knew of and what they were majoring in but more than that he couldn’t do anything. “No... I really couldn’t recall any strange behavior” he answered shaking his head and pursuing his lips “Even Peter whom was doing part of his thesis with me so we spent more time together nowadays... I can’t tell you I saw him doing or behaving anything out of the ordinary” his hands were splayed palms up and wide open. White long fingers steady and encompassing. 

“Well thank you for your cooperation professor we might come again if you don’t mind...” said Emily taking the photos from the table but she was interrupted in the process. 

“Oh!” a tall man entered the office without knocking and stopped in his tracks as he looked at the two agents. His brow furrowed and he shook his head; there was a big and beige envelope hugged to his side and a cup of coffee in the other “I’m sorry you’re busy Professor, I’ll come back later...” he said starting to retreat but the older man just shook his head and smiled at the two agents. 

“Nonsense Hummel, there no need for that” he smiled warmly and extended his hand to Derek and Emily “I believe that the two agents were already on their way” he said politely and got up to see them out “You know were to find me if you need anything more” professor Warrington said while gesturing for the fourth man to put his things in the room, “Me and Alex have to work on some grades from the senior classes, so fell free to barge in” he concluded has he took the envelope that the younger man was presenting him. 

The name of the younger man in the room made both agents spark in recognition. 

_Alexander Hummel_. 

Derek eye narrowed immediately as he took in the guy. He felt Emily at his side shift and extend a hand towards the younger professor. He knew he should just curb whatever that he was feeling right now, but he found he couldn’t. There was something inside of him that reared it’s ugly head up and wasn’t going to go down anytime soon. He beat the brunet to the punch and assessed the man in front of him with keen eyes. 

He was a tall guy; possibly the same height that Spencer. His skin had a golden hue to it, clearly touched by the sun and his eyes had this green tint to them around the dull brown of the rest. His hair was black and simply kept messily around his head. There were no scars or markings and his face looked soft with no lines of tension, just confusion and a bit a of surprise marring his features. 

“Agent Derek Morgan and this is Emily Prentiss” the chocolate skinned man said in a crisp and cold voice has he took the other man’s hand and shook it more force than necessary. He remembered has Reid spoke of the man - eyes sparkling and a slight gentleness in his words. 

It made hum want to punch things. 

“Alexander Hummel” he replied with a pained and a bit confused expression, “Are you Spencer’s team mates?” he asked quirking an eyebrow at Prentiss and him.

_ Really punch things.  _

“Yes we are” Emily was looking confusedly at Derek who was just there looking murderous for no apparent reason, “Dr. Reid spoke of you” she smiled at the other man and he returned the curve of lips at the brunet, with a slight blush appearing on his face. As he was retrieving his hand from the forceful shake the agent gave him he knocked his own bag and from it fell a cellphone. The guy gave an slight exclamation and went to grab it trying not to get any language get the best of him, the dark skinned man looked at the small device and felt his eyes widen momentarily. 

His gut twisted and turned as he glimpsed at the screen of the cellphone Hummel was holding. There was a photo of Spencer in the background; his eyes wide and hazel caught in the moment and the snow falling around him. He clamped his jaw shut and felt something dark and bitter churn in his chest as he looked at the fumbling man. Derek could feel the need to just break the damned device. How did he have a photo of the young genius? They were his family and he could count by his fingers the number of photos they had taken from him. In that moment he wanted to beat the answers out of that Hummel guy. 

As if sensing the mod in Morgan, the only woman in the room just grabbed the arm next to her and smiled politely at the professor and gave a nod at the green eyed guy while pushing Morgan out of the door. 

“It was a pleasure gentlemen but we need to go” she said curtly “We will be contacting you soon professor Warrington” she added and then closed the door keeping her hand clasped around Derek’s bicep and shaking her head as finally something clicked inside of her mind. 

And really? How didn’t she saw this sooner was something she would never forgive herself for. This was going to be even more interesting now. Or not. It might complicate things. 

“ _Men really..._ ” she thought as she barreled the chocolate skinned man out of the building. 

* * *

 

“Wait a second! _Wait a second!_ ” JJ’ just blinked incredulously at the younger agent “You mean he just... plunged her in wax?” her face contorted in distaste at the nod she received from Spencer “Why the hell would someone want to just do that? I’m mean, is that some kind of torture or desire factor in it?” the blond woman shook her head and stared at the file on her table. 

The conference room attributed to them was already all set up. There were two boxes on the table and three boards: two white with some of the missing persons that fit the time set and the third was holding a map that Reid was happily working on marking the victims last seen places and trying to disentangle the web of connections that they represented. 

“Actually she was killed before, according to the coroner” Spencer looked briefly at the blond and inclined his head to the report on the table “The UnSub submerged the head after the kill. By doing that he bought time but since he just displayed the head like it was some kind of warning or call for attention... I’m guessing the wax isn’t really just for buying time” he turned to the board again, “The doctor was really creeped out by the wax. That gave him a very difficult time in recognizing the victim.” 

The young mother uncrossed her legs and read the report for the second time. 

“Well no wonder...” JJ’ replied her mouth pursued and her eyebrows high “And what about the gold?” she asked with curiosity “Why would he just paint the head of gold? Could it be in any relation to the note?” she was already getting up and nearing the white board that contained the small piece of paper. 

“I’m not sure yet” Spencer stepped out from the board and looked at the blond, his curls falling to one side of his face “But there might be a connection between that, we have to wait for Rossi and Hotch to come back. They might have found something to work with” he tore his eyes from the woman and took them back to the board. 

“True, let’s just hope we can solve this one quickly” she said and picked her head up “Well it seems that Prentiss and Morgan just arrived first” she said looking at the coming agents “And Derek’s clearly pissed at something” she raised both eyebrows and the two of them looked at each other curiosity shinning as they watched their friends coming inside the room. Emily looking exasperated and Derek not even glancing their way. 

* * *

 

There was a door at the end of the corridor. 

Flickers of gold poured through it slightly into hallway casting disentangled shadows. Shadows that would tell stories of bared walls with no distinct marks and no more living than what’s really necessary. 

Beyond that metallic door lay a room. 

And that room would tell a very different story from the hallway. 

Inside the golden glow was almost blinding as the sculptures laid around the room; fragments of bodies and small stories that would hold the horror of some kind of reality. All splayed around the furbished walls, gathering in the warmth of the wood that seemed to consume this walls in particular. 

At the other end of the place, a man seemed pleased with his work; he smiled slightly at his newest craft and nodded his head alongside the music softly murmured between his lips. The body in front of him was posed tensely; all taut lines like a violin string - tensed and ready to break at the slightest touch. 

The man then moved right into the center of the room and looked around him appreciating his own work; eyes with a glint of morbid pleasure at the sight. The horror show that presented before him was still waiting for one last piece to be complete. There at the center of the room laid a mockery of a throne still empty and waiting for his filling yet. 

The man smiled. 

A slow curve of lips that showed a bit of teeth. 

“Almost done...” he whispered to the golden bodies that lay around in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:
> 
> Chapter oo7 - A Mountain Full of Ego


End file.
